


This Strange Love

by RosaF7



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Angst, Cousin Incest, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 18:52:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3780559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaF7/pseuds/RosaF7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amara's been running for almost 3 years, but family obligations take her back to Tokyo. Back home, back to Michelle, back to a love she wishes she could forget. Amara/Michelle. Based on the English dub of Sailor Moon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Strange Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the English dub canon, so essentially Stars never happened, and Amara and Michelle finished their time with the Senshi after S. I did play with their characters a bit, I just could not make them as ridiculous as they are in the dub and still take the story seriously, so they are probably a merged version of their sub and dub identities, probably in fact, closer to their sub identities. Michelle never says “hang tight” and Amara never says “Riddle me this, Batman” which should be a relief (or perhaps, a disappointment!). There are a few lines I used from the dub, but not too many. 
> 
> Obviously, I’m not a fan of the fact that they made them cousins in the English dub. However I love that even then, it’s so terribly obvious that they are in love with each other, and it’s an excellent fuck you to the homophobes who tried to make them straight, and ended up with incestuous lesbian cousins. Michiru and Haruka’s gay cannot be hidden. 
> 
> Warning: Contains incest and kink.

She slams the screen down hard, not caring, in that moment, if she breaks it. She beats a fist angrily on the table. She can hear her flatmate call out, something along the lines of  _are you ok, darl_ , but her voice feels distant and she ignores it. Her next step is routine, the thing she always does when something frustrates her, when she can’t let herself think.  _Ride_. Ride hard and fast. So fast she can’t feel anything, so fast the thoughts can’t intrude because just one mistake would mean her death. She stomps downstairs, trying to ignore the thoughts – _expected at home_  –  _your twenty first birthday_  -  _her twenty first birthday_  – _a family event_ – _a joint celebration_  –until she’s on her beloved bike, and can feel nothing but the hot wind whipping, slapping almost, like she deserves it, against her face.

-

The plane ride is long and draining. She is tall and her legs push up uncomfortably against the seat in front of her. There are two kids sitting in the aisle across from her, two kids with far too much energy and far too lenient parents. She sighs and closes her eyes, willing her body to sleep.

Her intention in the beginning had been simple:  _get the fuck away from Tokyo_. As soon as she had finished senior year and turned eighteen, she’d told her mother she needed a break before university. Somehow she had wrangled together the money and then she’d been out. She’d gone to America, to fulfil her dream of riding her bike cross country. And she’d done that. For over one year, she’d driven around, stopping in places to work for a few weeks or so, before heading off again.

Then she’d found work at a mechanic’s shop, and with that, friends. Mostly just the guys there, good for a drink (or rather, drinks) after a long shift together. But Taylor too. Someone to head out with on Wednesday nights, to the only lesbian night in town. Someone who laughed at her baby steps. Someone who teased her for being so good at flirting but so bad at closing the deal. Someone who asked once if there had been a girl back in Tokyo, saw the scowl cross Amara’s face, and learnt never to ask again.  

They had become fast friends and when a spare room became available in Taylor’s flat, she’d moved in. For the next year she had lived with her, steadfastly ignoring most of her mother’s emails. But this email was demanding. And she had stretched the limits enough. Her family was throwing her a twenty first. She would be there for that.

The other part…….she wouldn’t think about too much.

-

She walks out, exhausted from the trip. There are masses of people around her, crying and pulling each other into tight hugs. She looks around for her mother, perhaps her mother’s husband too, if he wasn’t working today. Three years ago her mother had remarried, and moved the whole family to Tokyo where her new husband worked.

Somehow, before she can even find her, her mother’s arms are tight around her and she’s pulling her close to her. “Amara,” She whispers in her ear, and she can hear the tears in her voice. After a long hug her mother holds her at arm’s length, assessing her. Her eyes take in the still short messy blonde hair, the dark jacket and the crinkled pants. “You still look the same,” Her mother observes quietly, and there’s a mixture of relief and disappointment in that tone. Relief that her daughter is back home safely, disappointment that over two years in America hadn’t transformed her into the type of woman she wanted her daughter to be. Amara senses this but smiles anyway, herself taking in the slight changes in her mother, the aging that she had missed, with a pang of guilt.

But the fact remains the same. She doesn’t regret leaving.

-

She’s absentmindedly watching TV the next day, stretched out over the lounge in her trackies and an old tee, when her mother comes over with the bad news. “I invited Michelle and Katsumi over for dinner tomorrow night.”

It had to come, this moment. But she hadn’t been expecting it so soon. She’d thought that maybe she’d have a few days to settle in. A few days to get used to the idea of seeing Michelle again. “Great,” She says, but her tone is flat and her mother catches it.

“I wondered…..,” Her mother begins slowly, and there’s a nervous tremor in her voice. Amara doesn’t look at her. “You and Michelle. You were so close…. _so close that_ ……and then, now….did something….did you fight…or…..”

She doesn’t answer the questions her mother is asking, or rather, trying to ask. When she looks up at her mother, she sees the fear in her eyes that she’s trying to hide. “No…just distance, Ma. We just lost touch, that’s all.”

“Ok,” Her mother says, a little too readily, a little too willing to believe. “Well, it’ll be nice for you two to catch up again.”

Amara flicks the channel, pretends to be occupied with the TV. “Sure, Ma, sure.”

-

That was a lie, of course. But Amara is used to lying about her and Michelle. Used to lying to their fellow Senshi. Used to lying to their friends. Used to lying to herself.

She tosses and turns in bed. She can’t sleep. All she can think about is tomorrow, and what it will bring. She hadn’t expected things to turn out like this, not at all….

They hadn’t spent that much time together as children. They didn’t have much in common and their families lived too far away to see each other for more than occasional holidays. Whilst their mothers had always been close, Michelle’s mother, Katsumi, had married up, and after that, there was more than distance between the two families. When she was 15, she had moved down to Tokyo on her own to focus on her racing. That was the official line. In truth, she was hoping that getting away from her home town might get her away from her visions. It hadn’t worked.

She had known, of course, that Michelle lived in town. Her mother had even tried to get her to move in with Michelle’s family. She was worried about Amara living alone at only 15. But Amara was headstrong, and truth be told, at that stage she’d thought of Michelle as a spoilt little princess. She had despised her, in fact. It wasn’t Michelle’s fault, not really. She  _was_  insanely talented, already a concert violinist and established artist by 15. But that wasn’t really the reason she hated her. It was because her mother, for her whole life, had been comparing her to Michelle.  _Oh, look, Katsumi just sent some photos of their holiday to France, look at Michelle, she looks so lovely in her pink dress_.  _Oh Michelle just won an award for her art, look how wonderful she looks on stage, I might get a dress for you like that too. Michelle, Michelle, Michelle._

Always perfectly dressed. Always so feminine. Why couldn’t Amara be more like that? It was a constant battle between her and her mother. The way she dressed, and her mother’s not quite concealed fear that she was a lesbian.

She almost laughs at the thought. Little did her mother know.

She’d been disappointed to find out that her visions had not abated when she’d moved to Tokyo. Instead, they had increased dramatically, hitting her almost daily then. There was a woman in the visions, a woman with glimmering hair who floated above her and called upon her to act. Her voice was demanding and relentless. She didn’t want to hear it. That was the last thing she had needed. She had her life and she had her dreams. She might not have cared much about running, but she had it in mind to be Japan’s fastest formula one driver, and there was no way she was giving that up for some unintelligible nonsense about the end of the world.

She remembers the day Michelle found her. She’d been getting dressed after a run, pulling on her tracksuit, not in her best mood. The run had been easy but she was tired. Tired from all the visions. Elsa had introduced them. She remembers Elsa chattering away, and she remembers being unable to hold in a gasp at the sight of her cousin, at how utterly beautiful she was. More beautiful than she had recalled. She remembers Michelle saying something, making it clear that she knew who she was, without giving it away to Elsa. She remembers then that their eyes met, and that the look in Michelle’s eyes was so intense, so full of knowledge, greater than she could have imagined, that she was even more afraid. She snapped something back at her, refused her offer of a drink and then sauntered off proudly.

The next time she’d seen her had been on a cruise ship. It was some fancy fundraiser for a charity Michelle’s family sponsored. Michelle had been playing and she’d been pretty sly too, inviting Amara, but not sending the invite directly to her. Instead, Michelle had sent the invite to Amara’s mother, and Amara’s mother had almost cried on the phone, begging her to go, telling her it would be a mortal insult to the oh so glorious Kaioh family if she refused. Finally Amara had given in. She’d go, but screw them all, she wasn’t wearing a dress. Part of it was because she just simply wanted to wear a tux, the other part….she admits she was hoping she might scare Michelle and her silly games off. She had bet the perfect princess didn’t much like to be associated with dykes.

She doesn’t recall how long she’d been staring at the all too realistic painting on the cruise ship when Michelle had interrupted her. They’d made some small talk, she’d bullshitted about some nonsense or the other, and then the conversation had turned.  _We are who we are_. Michelle had slammed her for running, and she’d shouted at her in return. She doesn’t even remember what she said, what sort of garbage she’d believed in back then. The conversation hadn’t ended well.

And then the next time….she couldn’t forget that time. The time that Michelle had spilled out her fears to her, the first time she had seen another side to her cousin, a more vulnerable side, the first time she had held her cousin in her arms, and the first time she had accepted that she was Sailor Uranus.

Everything had happened quickly after that. They both enrolled in Infinity Academy, Michelle’s senses guiding them. It made sense for them to live close to the school, and it made sense for them to live together. It was safer. Michelle’s parents had been easy to convince. They were quite happy that their daughter would be attending one of the newest premier schools, and readily provided her with an apartment close by and an almost unlimited credit card for general expenses.

Amara’s mother was delighted that she was moving in with her wonderful talented oh so accomplished cousin. Amara didn’t have the kind of money to support herself, in addition to the mammoth school fees, but Michelle was more than generous with her money. It irked Amara but after numerous arguments she had accepted that her getting a part time job would be more of a distraction than an aide to their mission.

Amara was used to her independence. Even when she lived with her mother, she had been used to, from a young age, coming and going as she so pleased. It wasn’t that her mother didn’t care. Amara’s father had passed away when she was twelve, and with two younger brothers to look after, a full time job and an ailing mother-in-law to care for as well, she simply did not have the time to watch closely over Amara, the eldest and most capable.

She had thought it would annoy her, moving in with Michelle. When they had moved in together, she still hadn’t quite got rid of the idea, that she was a spoilt little princess. They didn’t really know each other well enough. But Michelle hadn’t been who she expected. Michelle was hardly a princess waiting for a prince. She was rather cynical of the whole idea of romance, scoffing that anyone waiting for Prince Charming was living in a fantasy. Also, she was gay. Something she had made clear to Amara when Amara had implied rudely (and perhaps, in retrospect, a little jealously) that she and her friend Brad, who took music classes with her, were more than just friends. In fact,  _both_  Michelle and Brad had turned out to be gay. Amara had been inordinately pleased about that news.

The mission brought them together, and at times it threatened to tear them apart. It wasn’t easy. The idea….the idea that they would have to kill three innocents, even if it would save the world. It was that moment, she thinks, when Michelle tore out of her bindings, when Michelle damned her own life to save hers, that she realised that perhaps she wasn’t the only one in deep. 

Michelle was just…..Amara found it difficult, even now, to find words to describe her. She was beautiful, yes. That was easy. She was incredibly talented. Easy again. And then….she was smart, always one step ahead of her. She was sharp and didn’t take shit. She was cold to those she thought were only interested in her for her status, but could be kind and generous with those she considered to be genuine. She was tough on the field, and tough off it, though in completely different ways. She made Amara’s head spin from the beginning, and it had only gotten worse and worse the closer they had gotten.

Amara sighs and glances at the bedside clock. It’s almost 4am. She needs to sleep….and all these thoughts of  _Michelle_. She says her name out loud, whispers it into the quiet night….then she closes her eyes, slips her hand down, and thinks of the last time they had seen each other….

-

She’s just finished packing. It’s 1 am, and her flight is early the next morning. She had told Michelle to go to sleep, but there she was, sitting quietly on the edge of Amara’s bed, her expression opaque.

“I’m done!” Amara announces, grinning. She flops backward onto her bed with a sigh of relief.

She glances up at her cousin, and sees Michelle smile tightly. “You’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

Then there’s silence. It’s not an easy silence. All of Amara’s senses are on alert, and she aches for…..but instead, she loudly fakes a yawn. “Early flight tomorrow. I should get to sleep.”

“Amara….”

“Yeah,” Amara grunts, feigning disinterest, before giving another exaggerated yawn and closing her eyes. She’s not quite sure where Michelle’s going with this, her cousin had been acting strange all night. But wherever she’s going, whatever she wants to talk about, it can’t be good. Some things are better left unsaid. She does not want this conversation to happen.

“Amara, would you look at me?”

“I’m tired,” Amara lies, not opening her eyes.

Suddenly there’s a solid weight on her, a warm body over hers. Amara starts in surprise and looks up at her cousin, now straddling her on her bed.

“Now you’re looking at me,” Michelle observes, with a sly smile.

Amara’s heart twists in her chest. The first thing she notices is how good her cousin feels on top of her, how right it just feels. Michelle’s aqua hair is falling freely about her face, and her eyes follow it down to where it ends, just above the sight of her pale breasts. Amara’s eyes cast downwards then she forces her eyes back up, but not before a shot of raw lust strikes through her.

This isn’t right. This isn’t how she should feel. This is her  _cousin_. This is her mother’s sister’s daughter. This is  _all_  wrong. She tries to ignore the heat spreading quickly across her body, and manages –in an almost steady voice- to ask, “What –what did you want to talk about?”

“I didn’t,” Michelle says, and before Amara can respond, Michelle is leaning down, her lips meeting Amara’s in a fleeting kiss. It’s so terribly brief, but it leaves Amara gasping so much that she flushes with shame.

Michelle pulls away slightly, strokes her cheek and looks at her carefully. “Is that ok?”

“I….we- we can’t…we’re…we’re cousins.”

“But do you want me?”

Of course she wants her. She’s wanted her ever since that day at the racetrack. She’d only wanted her more and more everyday they’d fought together, as their bond both on and off the battlefield strengthened. She was the only one she had thought of for the last three years.  _Of course she wanted her_.

She wants to shove Michelle off, snarl at her, push her away. They had only needed to last till tomorrow. They’d been doing this for three years. This tension, this need, this mutual understanding of their feelings for each other, but also the mutual understanding that it was wrong. They had only needed to last for  _one more night_. Then she would be gone. Then they could pretend that they’d never felt this way, find proper lovers, ones they weren’t related to.  _Just one more night_.

That would be the rational response. They are cousins. It is wrong.

But instead, desire takes over momentarily, and she finds herself nodding in response.

“Good,” Michelle says simply, leaning down for another kiss. Amara doesn’t resist.

When she pulls away, Amara is gasping even more. “But Michelle…we’re cousins.”

Michelle gently strokes her cheek again. “Is that the only thing bothering you?”

She manages to nod her head. God, she wants Michelle  _so_  bad. She cursed every day for making them who they were. If it could be any other way…..but –“It’s not right…..”

At this Michelle frowns, leans back a little and sighs. “ _I_  want you Amara, but if  _you_  don’t want this……”

She shifts, and Amara realises with alarm that she means to slide off her. Without thinking, she sits up and grabs Michelle tightly, her hands settling firmly against her hips, keeping her cousin in place. “Don’t go,” she begs, leaning up, her mouth finding Michelle’s, kissing her desperately. “Don’t go, please,” she whispers against her neck.

Michelle looks at her for a moment, before kissing her back fiercely. They press against each other, trying to get closer than their bodies would allow. Amara falls back, Michelle’s hands pulling roughly at her hair. She finds her hand trailing up Michelle’s nightgown, feeling the soft skin underneath. It makes her hazy with lust and she knows she wants nothing but skin between them. Michelle grabs her hand before it wonders too far,  _maybe I’m going too fast_ , Amara thinks through the haze, as Michelle suddenly pins both of her hands above her head.

They stare at each other for a moment, raw want in both of their eyes. Michelle leans down and nibbles at Amara’s lips, and Amara momentarily forgets how to think. The kiss deepens as Michelle’s right hand strokes Amara’s breast over her shirt, rubbing roughly against her nipple, already hard from the contact. She moans as Michelle pulls away from her lips, and uses her tongue to work on Amara’s neck, slowly running circles across it before she bites.  _Hard_. Amara groans in pain. Michelle bites the same spot again before she draws up, smiling, watching Amara as she traces her wet lips with her fingers. “Ok?”

“Yes,” She manages. It was more than ok, this was everything she wanted.  _Michelle_  was everything she ever wanted.  

“You don’t want me to stop?”

She shakes her head quickly. “No, no.”

“Good. Ask me then.”

Amara’s panting hard. She just wants to feel Michelle against her again, right now. “Ask?” She repeats blankly, moving her arms down, snaking them around Michelle, she just wants her close.

“Don’t,” Michelle snaps, moving swiftly to pin her arms up again. “ _Don’t_  move your arms. And ask me if you want me to keep touching you. Unless you would like me to stop.”

“I-? Michelle?”

Michelle sighs slightly, and starts pulling away. It’s only mere inches, but it’s far too far away for her liking. “Michelle? I…uh…touch me?” She asks a little helplessly, in confusion, not quite sure of the right answer, or why she even needs to ask.

Michelle slowly crosses her arms over her chest. “Say Michelle, will you touch me,  _please_ ,” She instructs, without moving any closer.

Amara groans at the instruction, and feels a shiver of desire run down her spine. “Michelle, will you touch me, please?”

Michelle finally smiles, pleased. “Ok, Amara.”

She leans over, but then hesitates, pulls back. Amara wants to reach up and envelop her, realising just how much she can’t stand the distance between them but she doesn’t dare disobey again.

“Amara….are you….are you ok with this? With -see I like -in bed, I like to dominate…and give orders. Is that something you’re ok with? If not, we can just do other things,” She says quickly, and Amara can hear the nerves in her voice. That’s not a thing she sees in her cousin very often.

The first thing that crosses Amara’s mind is unadulterated anger. How does she know this? Who had she been with? She should only have ever been with  _her_. She knows her eyes flare up, because Michelle suddenly draws back, and starts to speak, “We don’t have-”

“No, I-” Amara pushes herself up, props herself up on her elbows. She wants to ask, she has a burning curiosity to know. She also knows it will ruin the mood, but she’s so overcome with an insane jealously. She forces it down and instead tries to speak with a steady voice. “It’s fine. I like it so far.”

Michelle smiles, almost shyly. “Tell me, if you don’t like something, just let me know.”

She nods, biting back the questions. She wants to ask, who had she been with, how did she know. She had stupidly assumed that like her, she’d never been with anyone. Damn! Elsa, of course, it had to be –but then Michelle’s fingers reach up to trace Amara’s lips, and all thoughts flee her. Slowly, Michelle inserts a finger into her mouth. “Suck,” she commands, as she easily pushes Amara’s arms back up over her head again.

Amara moans, latches her mouth around the finger, and sucks hard. Michelle slips a second finger in, and then a third. Amara opens her mouth wider, taking all of Michelle in, as Michelle begins to fuck her mouth. “Do you want more?” Michelle asks, her tender tone a stark contrast to the way she’s fucking Amara’s mouth. Amara tries to speak, but can only get out an incoherent mumble. Michelle smiles, momentarily pulling her fingers out.

“More,” Amara responds, her voice husky. “More.”

Michelle smiles, slids her wet fingers back in, watches with pleasure as Amara opens wide to take them all in. Then, after allowing a moment for her to adjust, she shoves her hand in deeper, causing Amara to gag around her hand and cry out. “Keep sucking,” Michelle says, and Amara closes her eyes, sucks past the discomfort, her arms above her like she’s been told.

 “Good. You’re so good for me.”

Michelle’s right hand is back on her breast, pinching her nipple roughly, whilst her left fucks Amara’s mouth. She then pulls her hands away, unbuttons Amara’s shirt swiftly, runs circles over her skin with her tongue until she’s sucking a nipple, hard. Amara cries out, bucks up, wanting more. Michelle leans up and they kiss each other frantically until Michelle stops, and pulls away.

Amara watches in awe as Michelle leans over to undo Amara’s buckle and pull her pants off. Amara helps with the pants, and they both laugh a little as the pants get stuck before finally coming away. The laughing gives away to panting as they meet each other’s eyes. “Ok?”

“Yeah.”

Michelle runs her palms lightly up the insides of Amara’s thighs and Amara gasps. “ _Michelle_.”

Michelle leans down, her mouth following the path of her palms, soft kisses trailing up her thighs.

“ _Oh God, Michelle_.”

Michelle smiles boldly and rubs her nose teasingly against her. “You smell so good, Amara.”

Words don’t exist right now. She can barely manage an incoherent moan.

Michelle giggles, and then playfully runs her tongue over her underwear, enjoying the way Amara squirms under her. Pulling away slightly, she slips a finger under. Amara lets out a desperate groan.

“You’re already so wet for me. You want me bad, don’t you?”

“Uhh.”

“Amara?”

“Uhg,” Amara is barely coherent, it’s Michelle, it’s  _Michelle_. Michelle who is touching her, wanting her.  _Michelle_.

Suddenly Michelle pulls away, and there’s no touch, nothing. She feels suddenly cold. “I asked you a question, Amara.”

“I…uh?”

“I asked you, you want me bad, don’t you?”

“I-”  _Surely_ the answer was more than obvious.

“Say it.”

“I….I want you….”

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

“ _Michelle_ ,” she whines. She feels herself flush, she’s embarrassed. And she’s never been too good with words.

Michelle notices, and smiles, looking incurably pleased. She lets her hands run lightly over Amara’s thighs again. “Tell me,” She insists unwaveringly.

“I want….I want…”

“Mmmm,” To reward her for getting those words out, Michelle briefly sucks at her inner thigh. “Yes?”

“I want –I want you to go…go down on me.”

“Very good,” Michelle says, kissing her sharply on the thigh. “But I’m not going to.”

Amara blinks, stares vacantly as Michelle sits up and pulls away. Amara aches with need, she  _needs_ her, she  _needs_  Michelle’s mouth on her,  _now_.

 “I…Michelle…?”

Getting no response, Amara props up onto her elbows, confused. “Michelle? Is everything ok?”

“Of course. But surely you can’t expect me get you off, when you haven’t even made me come.”

“ _Michelle_ ,” Amara groans longingly. If that’s what Michelle wants, then she’ll do it. She would be happy enough just to make her come over and over again.

She immediately leans up, grabs Michelle and pulls her close, ready to taste her and take her and fuck her.  _Whatever_ Michelle wants. All of it, if she’ll let her. But Michelle pushes her off roughly, her eyes flashing with anger. “ _What_  are you doing?”

“I….I wanted to make you….”

“Lie down.”

“I…”

“Lie down.” She repeats coldly.

Baffled by the sudden change in atmosphere, Amara slowly does as commanded.

“Put your arms up above your head again. Don’t move them. I  _told_  you not to move them.”

“I…-I….I’m sorry,” Amara stammers.

“Look at me. Don’t move.”

Michelle strips off fully, her eyes locked on Amara’s. Amara wants to reach over, to touch her, to feel her, but she can’t. Instead, she stares longingly and in awe as more and more pale skin is revealed.

Completely naked, Michelle moves back onto the bed and sits by Amara. She’s so close, and she can see her, and smell her and Amara just wants to touch her  _so_  bad. “What do you want?”

“I want you. Oh god Michelle I want you so bad.”

Michelle reaches over and pinches a nipple sharply. “What do you want? Ask for what you want and I might give it to you.”

“I’m sorry.…oh…I…please Michelle I want you….I want to make you come.”

She leans over and pinches the other nipple, viciously tweaking it. “Don’t be so imprudent. I said,  _ask_.”

“Can I Michelle, please will you let me make you come?”

“Yes, that’s better,” She says, and as a reward she kisses Amara, biting her lower lip, pulling against her, hard. As she pulls away, Amara starts to reach for her, but Michelle slaps her away, the slaps stinging against her skin. “Did I tell you to move?”

“No but-“

“But what?”

“I…” Michelle is glaring hard at her and she baulks at the look, quickly lying back down again. She had thought she was going to be the one making Michelle come, and she could hardly do that with her arms above her head, but…

And then Michelle straddles her and swings her body up, until she’s across her shoulders and Amara can smell her and fuck, she wants her,  _oh god, so fucking bad_. Michelle’s still holding herself up, her body just inches above Amara and Amara just wants to reach up and lick her but she doesn’t dare, she’s been told not to move, and this time she wants to get it right. Michelle observes the look on Amara’s face –watches her eyes go eyes hazy with desire- with a wild grin, the curtain of her ocean coloured hair falling around her. “Please…”Amara whispers.

“Please what?”

“Please….could I…could I lick you?”

Michelle lets out a soft groan and then lowers herself slowly onto Amara’s face. Amara moans as she sees just how wet her cousin is for her and she wants  _so_  badly to reach out and grab her, but she keeps her hands where they are and reaches out instead with her tongue, craving the contact, watching intently as Michelle lowers her body onto her. And then she’s covered in wet, and for a moment she can barely breathe, but then she can, just barely, and she’s wet all over –her mouth, her nose, her whole face covered in her cousin, and there’s nothing else she would want. She’s never done this before, but she’s willing to learn, and Michelle shifts herself, meeting her tongue, even as her tongue shifts to meet her. Somehow, she finds a rhythm, and Michelle moans, a moan that vibrates through her whole body, and it’s the sweetest fucking sound in the world.

Her tongue begins to ache, and sometimes she struggles to breathe, and she’s so sticky and wet, and covered in her, but it’s not even enough. God, she could be here every day, every hour, and it wouldn’t be enough. After what feels like minutes, but could be hours, she really has no idea, Michelle gives a soft cry, and comes, adding to the mess already all over her face. 

Panting hard, Michelle shifts, moving back so she is sitting on Amara’s hips. Amara takes a few gasping breathes before looking up adoringly at her cousin. Michelle breaths out, then slides down, lying herself down over Amara, her head on Amara’s chest. Amara moves a hand down to place it over her cousin, not quite sure if she’s allowed to, just yet, but Michelle says nothing, just moves tighter against her, hazy as she comes down from her orgasm.

After a few moments, sooner than she expected, Michelle trails her hand down between them, and with her other hand pulls Amara’s head towards her, kissing her feverishly. Amara moans into the kiss, and squirms as Michelle reaches her clit, moves her finger against her steadily, bringing her to an orgasm harder and faster than anything she’s had on her own.

They lie there for a little while, and Amara feels the haze of sex starting to pass her, the adrenalin starting to slow. With that, she feels the shame returning, and it sears through her. This is her cousin,  _her cousin_. This isn’t right. Cold shame settles through her body. And yet, she doesn’t want to leave. She wants to live in a world in which she can hold Michelle, love Michelle and have it be ok.

Michelle sighs deeply next to her and nuzzles her head in closer. “Amara?”

“Hmmm?”

“It would be better if you weren’t leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

Michelle laces their hands together, a little cautious all of a sudden, and Amara resists the urge to pull away. “You should come back, soon….I…I should have done this sooner, I wanted this….for a long time.”

_One more night_. They should have left it one more night. There’s a sick feeling at the pit of her stomach, she feels almost nauseous. She should have held back. This was wrong.

“Amara?”

“Mmmh?”

“Do you think…..we can still speak on the phone…and….I could come and visit too?”

Michelle sounds unbearably hopeful and Amara knows this is a side of her cousin that few get to see, and Amara doesn’t want to crush her spirits. Not now. Not just after…..Yet she knows there will be no phone calls and no visits, she is sure. This was a mistake and it was wrong.  It would never happen again. “Sure, that sounds nice,” She says, managing to put a little enthusiasm in her voice. “We should go to sleep….the flight…”

“Of course,” Michelle agrees quickly and she leans up tenderly, to brush some hair away from Amara’s face. Their eyes meet, and as Michelle draws closer, Amara feels her resolve draining away. When her lips meet hers, she gives in hopelessly, and draws her even closer. It’s tenderer this time, and slower, but just as intense. After a moment, Michelle pulls away, already panting. “You need to go to sleep,” she reminds her, in a whisper. Amara rolls on top of her, and presses her knee against her, watching her intently as Michelle’s eyes close in pleasure.  

“I can sleep on the plane.”

-

She stares at herself in the mirror. She’s wearing a simple white shirt, with a navy vest and fitted jeans. She knows she looks good. She’s not so sure about the hair though. She squirts another blob of gel onto her hand then decides against it. Any more gel in her hair and it would sparkle. Instead she tries to tousle it, trying to recreate that perfect windswept look she was known for.

“AAaammmarrra! Hurry up! Ma says you have to help her get the table ready!” It’s her younger brother, Koji, banging loudly against the bathroom door.

“Coming!” Amara yells back, taking one last look at her hair before grimacing. It wasn’t going to be perfect today. But if she spent any longer in here, her mother would start getting suspicious, if she wasn’t already anyway.

When she gets to the living room, her mother raises her eyebrows at her outfit but makes no comment, instead asking her to set the table. She knows her mother wants it to be perfect, that she doesn’t want her wealthier sister to think badly of them, so Amara sets the table carefully, and spends the next hour tidying up bits and pieces around the house that her mother hadn’t been able to get to. Her two brothers are allegedly helping too, but mostly spend the time arguing with each other. Amara ignores them as she moves steadily around the house. She’s absorbed in her own thoughts, planning how she’ll react, what she’ll say. She tries to figure out how to justify her complete absence, and then, in the next sentence, is angry that she has to justify it at all. All too soon, she hears the doorbell ring.

She hears her mother open the door, greet her sister, and then –she hears her voice.

_Her_  voice. For the first time in over 2 years.

Michelle is polite. She’s thanking her mother for the invite, telling her it’s lovely to see her. Then she hears her mother respond loudly, and she cringes. “Amara can’t wait to see you.”

She’s going to see  _her_. For the first time in over 2 years.

For a moment, she just feels sick, as if she’ll throw up, on the spot. But then Michelle walks in and she just can’t do anything but stare.

Michelle is still insanely beautiful, her aqua hair falling around her in soft curls, though it is longer than before, falling down long past her shoulders. She’s wearing a simple blue dress that is somehow striking on her, and clutching a small cream purse. In so many ways, she’s still the same.

But her eyes. Where once Michelle had looked upon her with love, desire, tenderness, and yes, at times, irritation, exasperation and frustration….none of that is there right now. She had expected anger, coldness, or even hate.

And instead…..

Michelle looks at her, smiles and takes a seat. “Amara, it’s nice to see you. I hope you had a lovely trip.”

Amara searches her eyes, her words,  _anything_ , for a sign. For a jab in those words, for a spark of some feeling. But…..there’s _nothing_. Nothing. Just indifference. Just the same bland niceties she would say to someone else, to  _anyone_ else.

And then it hits her.

She’s spent the last 2 and a half years thinking about her, dreaming about her, wanting to be with her. Stupidly, naively, she’d assumed Michelle had been doing the same. She knew their love was wrong, but somehow, she’d still believed that their love was eternal, that their love would last. That they’d be with others but that it would never be the same. She’d run from fate, somehow hoping that it would pull her back.

She suddenly remembers Michelle’s words to Serena and Mina, the first time they met. “ _It only happens in fairy tales. If you ask me, anyone waiting for Prince Charming is not living in reality_.” It hits her then that she’d been that girl, and she’d been living in a fantasy, secretly hoping somehow, despite everything she’d done, despite everything that they were, that it would all work out. But she had forgotten.  _Michelle had never believed in fairy tales._

And just as suddenly, her fantasy collapses around her. 

 


End file.
